A Place to Stay
by JustMeeeeee
Summary: Literati, post-series. Rory goes to Jess for help during a relationship with an abusive boyfriend. Kind of dramatic, but not as cheesy as it sounds. At least I hope not! Tell me what you think!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, all! So, I'm definitely not new to this site, but I'm new to the whole publishing thing. I posted a fluffy oneshot almost four years ago, and then I just posted my second, more dramatic attempt at a oneshot just yesterday. Now, this is my first attempt a darker storyline, set post-series, and is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story. I'm not completely pleased with it yet, but I really wanted to get some of it online before too long. So please, _please_, give me some constructive criticism here. I'm begging you!

X

She met Vince while on the campaign trail. He was, in her eyes, everything she had ever wanted in a man. Tall, dark, handsome, with broad shoulders and beautiful blue eyes. His smile caught her eye from across even the most crowded rooms.

They crossed paths at an art exhibit that she had been attending in Manhattan. She was the lost journalist and he was the troubled painter. It seemed to be fate.

That night, they went out for drinks with a few other reporters from the campaign. He bought her martinis and charmed her until the bar closed. Feeling tipsy and intimidated by this beautifully lost soul, she returned with him to his apartment.

There, they spent the weekend together. He was intense, to say the least, yet extremely romantic. He bought her red roses, showed her his most meaningful artwork, brought her breakfast in bed. He confided in her about his past alcoholism, claiming, "I used to look for inspiration at the bottom of a bottle. But right here, looking at you, I could paint for centuries." They made love again and, as they finished, he whispered to her, "You're my muse."

As their rendezvous came to an end, he promised to think of her every day and assured her that they would meet again when her campaign job came to an end.

X

Their relationship escalated quickly. They spoke on the phone every night, saw each other whenever possible, and skipped the preliminary "dating" period and delved right into a serious relationship. When the campaign ended, he had cleared drawers and closet space for her in his apartment. She didn't hesitate to move in.

X

"Hello?" His deep voice rumbled through the phone, making her heart leap.

Pushing the tears away from her cheeks, she spoke. "Jess?"

He was silent. Were his ears deceiving him, or was that truly her voice on the other end of the call?

"It's me…Rory."

"Hi." It was all he could think to say.

"Hi."

He stood up from his desk, where he had been diligently typing away at his laptop. Pacing through his tiny apartment, he asked, "How are you?"

Her voice was soft and muffled through his receiver, but he heard her response. "I'm okay." But he detected the lie immediately.

"Why'd you call?" he inquired, doing his best to keep a lighthearted tone. He had mixed emotions at the moment. Almost a year ago, he had seen Rory in Stars Hollow for Thanksgiving. Her boyfriend, Vince, hadn't been able to make it, so she arrived alone. He noticed right away that she hadn't been as chatty as she normally would have been.

"I just wanted to know how you were doing. We didn't really talk the last time I saw you."

He thought back to that Thanksgiving dinner, how she didn't eat much and didn't draw attention to herself. After the meal, he tried to pull her aside, but Lorelai had snatched her daughter away in order to make it to their next Thanksgiving dinner.

"Where are you living these days, Jess? Still in Philadelphia?"

"No, no," he responded, running his hand anxiously through his hair. "A few of us relocated to New York."

"Really?" he could hear her perk up on the other end of the call. "I'm in Manhattan, Greenwich Village. Where are you?"

"I'm, uh, just across the river. Queens."

That night, long after she returned from Thanksgiving with the Gilmores, she had knocked on his door. He'd been staying in Luke's apartment above the diner. It had been late, long after Stars Hollow had gone to bed. He had to pull on a pair of jeans before answering the door.

She looked beautiful, as always. But timid, somehow. He invited her in, poured her coffee, and they sat in silence for what seemed like hours.

Finally, he asked her what was wrong. She shook her head and told him that she didn't even know herself. Once he tried to inquire further, she thanked him for the coffee and disappeared.

"Wow," she said, back on the phone. "I didn't realize we lived so close."

He considered pretending nothing was wrong, but decided against it. "Are you okay, Rory?"

There was a long pause before a response. "I don't know, Jess. I just don't know."

"Why did you really call?"

"I… I—You were who I really wanted to talk to. Not my mom. Not Lane, not Luke, not Paris… I just needed to talk to _you_."

"About what?"

"I'm not sure. I just wanted to make sure we were okay, I guess." He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. "Are we okay, Jess?"

"Of course we're okay."

"Jess, I—_Shit_." He heard ruckus on the other end of the call, as if she had dropped the phone. Then she spoke, low and fast, "I have to go." Then, click. She was gone.

X

"Rory?" She heard footsteps in the kitchen. She quickly attempted to wipe the tears from her face and pretend she hadn't been crying. "Rory?" he shouted louder.

Vince entered the bedroom, finding her with the phone in her hand, sitting on the floor near the closet. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly, doing her best to keep a steady voice.

"What are you doing with the phone?"

"I was just about to call my mother."

"You know how I feel about your mother."

She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

He looked at her with an anger in his eyes. "I'm going out tonight. Don't be making any phone calls while I'm gone."

X

It was four in the morning when he returned. Drunk. Again. He swung open the bedroom door, loudly slamming it behind him. Rory sat up quickly in bed.

"The fuck are you looking at?" he slurred in her direction. She knew better than to respond. "I _said_, 'What the _fuck_ are you looking at?' Answer me, bitch!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. It seemed to be the only thing she knew how to say anymore.

"Fuck you." He slapped once. "Fuck. You." He slapped her again, harder this time. She cried out, retreating from his hand.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

He came at her again, and she scooted back away from him, slipping off the edge of the bed and hitting her head on the nightstand. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, lifting her partially from the ground. He kicked her, hard, in the side. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. It never seemed to end. He squeezed her upper arm, digging fingers into her flesh, lifting her from the floor and back onto the bed. She did her best to subdue her uncontrollable sobbing. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry."

He stepped back for a moment, watching her quiver in fear. Then, he leaned forward and kissed her. Slipping his hands under her shirt, he caressed her breasts. She had to hide her look of disgust.

As he began kissing her neck, he whispered, "I'm sorry, baby."

After removing her panties, he undressed himself. Laying his heavy body on top of hers, she turned her head away from him. Although she knew better than to push him away, he took precaution by gathering her wrists in one hand, squeezing them uncomfortably tight above her head, undoubtedly leaving more bruises.

He entered her roughly, and she allowed herself to go numb. Her mind drifted away. Any place would be better than here.

X

This was a typical day in the life of Rory Gilmore. Her boyfriend would leave for work, an office job that he despised. She would clean the house to his specifications and when he returned, dinner would be waiting. When she first moved in, he would thank her, every day. He would smile and hug and kiss her, and he would tell her how lucky he was to have her in his life. She hasn't heard one compliment come from his mouth in almost a year.

After dinner, he would usually go out. He had fallen back into the world of drinking, and his old buddies from the bar were more than welcoming. He would stay out until the bars closed, and then come home, angry at nothing in particular, but with only one person to take it out on: Rory.

She was used to the violence by now. Even expected it. She tried so hard to make him happy, but nothing seemed to work. She had grown to hate herself. He would hit her, kick her, slam her against the walls. She did her best to keep him away from the kitchen, where he could easily find a weapon to aid him. When he was finished, he almost always apologized. He would suddenly become affectionate. And he almost always wanted sex. In her mind, allowing him to fuck her was better than the violence, so she never tried to stop him. She would just send her mind to another place.

But in the mornings... The mornings were the only thing she could look forward to. She would wake up, and he would be holding her tight to his chest. He woke up slowly, but he would see her, and he would smile. A genuine smile. And he would gently brush the hair away from her face, touching her body delicately. He would kiss her and tell her he loved her, tell her that he hated himself for what he did. "Why am I such a fuck-up, Rory?" he would ask. On particularly bad nights, he would cry the following morning. And every morning, she saw the glimmer of hope.

X

Her imprisonment was supposed to be temporary. When she first moved in, she applied for journalism positions all over New York. But every time she was offered a job, Vince would give her reasons to turn it down. "It's too far away." "You'll be unhappy there." "Wait for something better to come along." Eventually, she gave up the job search and became his full-time maid.

Vince was definitely unhappy with his life. His art career was failing, and he was "having a hard time coming up with inspiration for new pieces." She once joked of the night he told her that she was his muse. He felt that he was mocking her, and one good hand to the cheek later, she didn't ever mention it again.

His rich parents were funding his fancy Manhattan apartment, but only under the circumstances that he get a job. So he started working for his father's company, where he felt extremely suffocated. At first, Rory was his light at the tunnel after a long day. Eventually, she became an outlet for his anger.

In the beginning, his bouts of violence were infrequent. The first time he hit her, his face quickly changed from anger to horror, and he spent weeks trying to make it up to her. Gradually, the space between his episodes began to shrink. Now, the days he _didn't_ hit her were a rarity.

X

In mid-October, Rory missed her period. She brushed it off as an irregularity. But a month later, she missed another.

While Vince was at work, she rushed to the small market down the street. She bought a pregnancy test.

Back in the apartment, she took the test, then waited for the results from the living room couch. While the minutes ticked slowly away, she had a breakdown.

Sobbing loudly and uncontrollably, she pulled her hair by the fistfuls. How could this be happening? She took her birth control pill religiously. If she was pregnant… She would be bonded to this man forever.

Shaking at a terrifying rate, she considered her options. She could get an abortion. Vince would never have to know. Life could continue exactly as it had for the past year. Or, she could keep the baby. There was the possibility that Vince would straighten his life out for this child. There was the possibility that Vince would leave her if he knew she was pregnant. Or there was the possibility that Vince would continue to beat her and their child. And, for Rory, that was not something she could risk.

She could run away. She could move back to Connecticut with her mom. She could raise the baby without Vince. She decided on this option. "If this test is positive, I will leave. I will go to Stars Hollow."

She entered the bathroom, dizzy with nerves. She picked up the test.

Negative.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey! If you're reading this, it means you actually made it to Chapter 2! So thank you! Sorry if my chapter breaks are in weird places. When I started writing this, it was meant to all flow together as one long story. Also, I am absolutely terrible at coming up with titles for my stories, so if you have any ideas on something less cheesy than "A Place to Stay," please let me know. As always, leave constructive criticism in the reviews. Thanks again!

X

When Vince returned home that night, he asked her why her car had been moved. She told him she ran to the market to buy tampons. He took an angry breath.

Eerily calm, he said, "If you ever tried to leave, I would find you. You know that."

She whispered, "I know."

X

The knock on Jess's door came early in the evening. He had been at his desk, tired and unkempt, going over the manuscript from a potential writer for what seemed like millionth time. By the time he—yet again—finished the first chapter, he was glad to be interrupted.

He opened the door, expecting a coworker or neighbor, and was surprised to find a disheveled Rory. Upon meeting his eyes, her expression became that of shock, and she immediately apologized and retreated down the hallway.

"Rory!"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown up like this. I should have called. I'm sorry."

He raced down the hall, cutting her off before she could reach the entrance to the stairwell. "Rory. What are you doing here? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I don't know why I came here. I can't just interrupt your life like this."

"_Rory_." He dragged out the sounds of her name for emphasis. "You're here. Tell me what's going on."

Shaking slightly, she pushed her hair away from her face and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration and stress. "I didn't know where else to go."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm… I'm living in New York City. I—I don't know anybody else here. I had to leave my house, and I had nowhere to go. So I came here." She suddenly covered her face in embarrassment. "Oh, my God. I am so sorry."

Jess stepped forward, wanting to touch her arm to comfort her, but she stepped back. He let his arm fall back to his side. "Why did you need to leave your house?"

She sighed, responding, "You ask hard questions."

They stood in silence for a few moments. She was obviously unstable at the moment, and he was beyond confused. He nodded toward his open apartment door. "Come on in."

X

He closed the door gently, turning toward her as she stood awkwardly in the middle of his poorly lit kitchenette. He sat down at the small table, which was mostly covered in books, papers, mail, and other forgotten things.

"Sorry about the mess," he said.

Unsure of what to say, she let the comment pass. She took a seat next to him, fidgeting with the worn book in front of her. The minutes passed in silence.

"Rory…"

Not making eye contact, she asked, "Have you ever been so mad at a person…that you felt like you could hit them?"

This seemed to confirm his suspicions. Her absent boyfriend, the fear in her voice during that phone call, the way she covered her body and caked makeup on her face. Tentatively, he answered, "I think… I think I've made some pretty shitty decisions in my life. You saw me fight Dean, back in high school. I was an angry kid then."

She didn't seem to like his answer, still avoiding his gaze.

"But, Rory… If this guy you're with—"

"That's not what I asked."

He inhaled, his chest tight and his heartbeat quick. "There are a lot of things that I did back then… A lot of them, I regret. I handled my anger in the worst possible ways at times. Especially before Stars Hollow, back when I lived with Liz. Her boyfriends would hit me, and I would hit them back. It's how I dealt with things then. Now… Now things are different."

"Different how?"

"I… I don't know. I guess I just found other ways deal with my anger. I write. I talk to people. I accept that things are going to be fucked up from time to time."

She nodded, finally looking up to meet his eyes. He always had such expressive eyes. He could make them stone cold if he wanted, but they could also convey so much to her, back when they were together. But now, now they were full of concern.

"Is he hitting you, Rory?"

Immediately, she averted her gaze back to the table.

"_Rory_."

After a moment, she nodded, just barely.

"For how long?"

Her voice was hardly above a whisper. "The first time was, I don't know, a year or so ago? But then, it was so rare that I didn't really think about it. It wasn't consistent until a few months ago."

"Consistent?"

"Daily."

He ran his hands through his already messy hair. "Jesus."

She didn't say anything. She was lost in her own thoughts, and so was he. He couldn't believe the effect she still had on him. He wanted nothing more than to touch her, comfort her, hold her. But for every millimeter he moved closer to her, a millimeter she retreated from him. She was afraid of him, and it hurt him in ways he never imagined.

"Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

She sniffed, and it suddenly occurred to him that she had been holding back tears. "I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"You're welcome to stay here if you need."

She visibly tensed. "I couldn't do that."

"C'mon, Rory, it's late, and this obviously isn't the safest of neighborhoods. You can have the bedroom to yourself. I'll take the couch."

"Jess—"

"Rory, you can trust me."

She could read the strain in his voice. He was scared. He was concerned for her. Even after all this time, after all they put each other through, he still cared. He reached out and touched her arm. Though she flinched, she allowed him to rub his thumb comfortingly across her shoulder. "I know I can, Jess."

X

She tried to reason with him, but he insisted that she take his bed for the night. "You've had a long day," he said. "You deserve a good night's sleep."

Eventually, she relented. He set up the couch for himself, then asked if she'd eaten anything recently. She shook her head. He frowned, taking in the too-thin frailness of her body.

He led her to the kitchen, apologizing, "I don't have much. I order delivery far too often."

"I'm not picky."

In an attempt to lighten the mood, he smiled and said, "I remember."

She gave a half-hearted chuckle, fidgeting with her hands.

"Is leftover Chinese okay?"

She nodded, and he heated up the cartons in the microwave. While they warmed, he did his best to clear enough room on the table for some plates. She took a seat, still obviously uncomfortable.

Together, they ate—or rather, he ate and she picked at her food. She seemed distant, like her mind was somewhere else. After many minutes of deafening silence, he quietly asked, "You doing okay?"

His words shook her from her trance, and she looked up at him. "I just don't know anymore."

Jess nodded, looking back down to the table. He had suddenly lost his appetite.

Rory bent her head to try to see his face. "What are you thinking about right now?"

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips, but it wasn't a happy smile or even a sarcastic smile. "I'm thinking… I'm thinking that I'm concerned about you. That I want to help you, but I don't know what I'm doing." His eyes lifted to her face, his head still bent downwards. "But I'm also really glad that you are here."

Shyly, she looked down at her food, but he could see the smile forming. His words must have been comforting, because she finally began taking Rory-sized bites of food instead of spinning her lo mien around on her plate.

X


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Alright, guys, time for the third installment! This will most likely be the last chapter posted today, because it's far as I've written so far. As always, reviews are appreciated!

X

In the morning, she woke up wrapped in unfamiliar sheets. At first, she had a moment of panic, but as she came to her senses, yesterday's events sunk in. Though her stomach felt anxious, she took a few minutes to appreciate where she was.

She was in Jess's bedroom. _Jess_. Of all people. And, she noticed, he had the most comfortable bed she had ever slept on. The warm sheets were a navy flannel, and his soft pillow seemed to attract her like a magnet. She realized that she hadn't slept so well in months.

Maybe, she thought, because she was sleeping alone. Maybe because she was out of that suffocating apartment she shared with Vince. But maybe, just maybe, it was because she actually felt comfortable around Jess. Maybe she really did trust him.

She took a look around his bedroom. It was a mess, of course. Despite the enormous bookshelf that covered the far wall, books were scattered everywhere. His desk was the most disastrous, of course. Books covered the surface, loose papers scattered across the floor, his laptop sitting atop a pile of worn notebooks. Rory was tempted to peek into those notebooks, read his thoughts. Back when she knew him, he rarely let people into his head. Now, he published his thoughts for all the world to read.

Feeling the need to sneak around—just a _little_—she opened the drawer of his bedside table. She wasn't sure what she was hoping to find, but she was still nervous. What if it was full of love letters, pictures of a new girlfriend, condoms? Nervously, she peered into the drawer.

Cigarettes. Another notebook. A few novels. Loose change. She opened the drawer further. Condoms. So he _was _getting laid. This made her nervous. Did he have a girlfriend? Were they serious? Was he in love? Did she know that Rory was sleeping in his bed? By the lack of femininity in his apartment, she could assume that this girlfriend—if she existed—wasn't living here.

When Rory heard footsteps on the other side of the door, she quickly shut the drawer and got out of bed. She found Jess in the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee.

"Hey," she said, and he jumped in surprise.

"Hey! How'd you sleep?"

She smiled. "Really well, actually."

"I'm glad." He took a seat at the table. "So did you snoop through my things?"

The smile faded. "What?"

"Rory, when we were together, I would find you rifling through my things on a daily basis." She adopted a panicked look on her face. Jess just smiled. "So did you find anything interesting?"

"I… I…" she stuttered. She took the seat next to him, then sighed, relenting. "I found condoms in your nightstand."

Jess laughed. "_That_ is the most interesting thing you found?"

Embarrassed, she said, "I was too nervous to go through your notebooks. That's your private—I don't know—_brain stuff_."

Clearly amused, "My private brain stuff? Rory, I plan on publishing a lot of that stuff eventually."

She just laughed, and—for once—things felt almost _normal_.

"Like I said last night, I don't have a lot to eat. The best I can offer you is coffee and cereal."

"Coffee and cereal sounds great."

X

When she emerged from the shower, the makeup she used to cover up her bruises washed away, and Jess couldn't help but notice every blue and purple mark on her delicate face, the scratches on her arms. He motioned with his head for her to join him on the couch.

She took a seat next to him, suddenly nervous again. He moved his body to face her, leaning forward on his knees. "So," he started. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Rory just shrugged. She knew she needed to tell him details at some point, but for the time being, she was content pretending like nothing was wrong.

"You know, Rory…" he began, choosing his words carefully. "I understand everything that's…going on with you. More than you think I do. I grew up watching my mom's boyfriends get drunk, get violent. Hit her, hit me. I know what you're going through."

"Jess…"

"If you want me to butt out, I'll butt out. It's just that you came _here_, of all places. I thought that—maybe—you'd like to talk to me."

She was silent for a long time. He was right, of course. Part of the reason she had come here was because she knew he wouldn't judge her. If she had gone to Stars Hollow, she would be the talk of the town. Everyone would be whispering, scrutinizing, making assumptions. But Jess… Jess was worldly. He had seen things that she had never seen. And when he first came to Stars Hollow, these things had hardened him. But he had softened—no matter how hard he tried to deny it. And he didn't expect perfection from people. He was flawed, and he accepted others for their flaws. And he would accept her, now, no matter what.

"I don't even know where to start."

He shrugged. "Start anywhere. The beginning, the middle, yesterday. It doesn't matter where you start. Just talk." But she just stared at him, still looking unsure. "Okay, how about I give you a prompt? What happened yesterday? What made you decide to leave?"

"Okay," she said. She took a breath, summoning the words. "Well, I thought I was pregnant." His eyes widened. "So, I went to the market and bought a pregnancy test. I decided that, if I was pregnant, I would leave him. I—"

"Rory, are you—"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not pregnant. When the test came back negative, I thought… Why do I need a baby to justify leaving? Isn't my happiness justification enough? So I decided to leave. And I think Vince could tell… He was suspicious the moment he opened the door. He reminded me—yet again—that if I left, he would find me." She paused, looking down at her feet. "But when he left to go to the bar… I just got in the car and I drove. And here we are."

He nodded. "Have you heard from him since?"

She lifted her gaze from the floor. "I'm sure I have about a thousand messages and missed calls. I left my cell phone in the car. I didn't want to hear the ringing."

Jess nodded again, nervously looking away from her for a moment. When he returned to her eyes, he asked, "So, do you want to talk about the actual fights, or is it too soon?"

Rory took a deep breath. "It's not too soon." She composed herself. He looked at her, ready to listen intently. He wanted to touch her, rest a hand on her leg to tell her that it was okay, he wasn't going to judge her. But he didn't.

And she talked. She told him how she had met Vince, how they had moved in together, their first fight, how he wouldn't allow her to get a job, didn't like her to call her mother. She told him about the abuse, how the hitting became more frequent. She told him about the threats he would make, how she had nowhere to go if she left. She even told him about the sex, how she would shut out the world until it was over. She did her best to tell him about the emotions she felt, the fear, the anxiety, the depression.

She talked. And he listened.

X

That afternoon, he drove her car back to Manhattan. She sat in the passenger seat, nervous, praying that Vince wasn't home. He tried to comfort her, to cheer her up by making jokes, telling her funny anecdotes. She gave him an appreciative smile, but then returned her gaze out the window.

When he pulled into a parking space outside the apartment complex, he watched her search for his car. Relaxing, she said, "He's not here."

He searched her face for a moment. "Do you want me come with you? Wait here?"

She looks at him with those big eyes. "You would come with me?"

"Of course," he says. She thinks he's offering as a friend, for moral support. She doesn't realize that he is being protective. If this boyfriend shows up, if he even _looks_ in her direction, Jess is ready to defend her. Hell, he'd _kill_ the guy for what he did to her.

He follows her to the fourth floor, down the hall to her door. She turns the knob—locked. Inserting the key, she hesitates. Jess can't think of anything to say that will comfort her. Staring at the door, her hand reaches for his. He grasps it without a word. He is amazed at the strength with which she squeezes his fingers. He holds her hand tight, easing her nerves.

After a moment, she releases her grip, turning the key and opening the door. He follows closely behind her as she carefully steps into the apartment.

For the most part, everything is as she left it. There are no dishes in the sink, no blankets misplaced. Across the room, a plate had been thrown against the wall, scratching the paint and leaving sharp ceramic in pieces on the floor. She carefully tiptoes over the mess, into the bedroom.

This is where he must have had the majority of his meltdown. There was a hole in the wall, the perfect size and height for a fist. The sheets had been thrown off of the bed, as if he had thrown off all the covers looking for her. One of the closet doors hung from only one hinge. A lamp was smashed on the ground. A framed piece of his artwork had fallen from its place on the wall. Her books were now lying, pages torn and crumpled, on the floor.

Jess had waited at the door, giving her the privacy to take in the apartment. But when she didn't come out of the bedroom in a few minutes time, he began to get worried. Was she crying in there? Having a nervous breakdown? He crossed the room, peeking in the door.

She wasn't crying, nor did she appear to having a breakdown. She was solemn, surveying the damage. When she heard his footsteps stop at the door, she turned to him, but neither spoke.

He watched as she moved past him, opening the hall closet and retrieving a cardboard box. She returned to the bedroom, setting the box on the bed, and began to remove clothes from the closet.

At first, he just watched her. She folded her clothes neatly and set them gently in the box. From her face, he could read no emotion, although she must be feeling _something_. After a few minutes, he grabbed another box from the hall closet and joined her.

"These all yours?" he asked, gesturing toward the books on the floor. She nodded, continuing with her clothes. Jess squatted, picking up each book delicately, smoothing the crumpled pages and adding them to the box. When they were finished with the bedroom, he followed her to the bathroom, where the giant mirror above the counter had been smashed. Calmly, Rory gathered her curling iron, her straightener, her makeup. No words were exchanged.

Jess waited by the door with her boxes as Rory made one last round, checking drawers and closets for any necessities. When she was finished, she locked the door, she and Jess both carrying a box down the stairs to the car.

They set her things in the backseat and Rory sat in the passenger seat again, silently asking him to drive. He didn't argue, and they were on their way back to Queens.

X

As they ate their—delivered, once again—Thai food that evening, he asked, "Are you sure you want to drive back to Stars Hollow _tonight_? You're more than welcome to stay."

She shook her head. "I've bothered you enough. You deserve to sleep in your own bed, enjoy your Sunday morning in peace." The look he sent her told her that he didn't care about any of that. "Besides, you're coming to Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday, right?"

He nodded in response. They both continued to eat. "So, what did you tell your mom?" he asked, referring to the phone call she made earlier from his bathroom.

She sighed sadly. "I told her that I was going to be coming home for Thanksgiving early. I told her I'd explain everything in person." Jess nodded slightly, looking down at his food. "She sounded hurt. It just about killed me," she added timidly.

Jess exhaled, trying to rid himself of the tenseness he felt in his chest. "I know you guys. Give it some time. You'll be best friends again soon."

She didn't respond, and so he let the subject drop. For a few minutes, all that could be heard was the sound of clinking forks on ceramic dishes. Jess wasn't sure if the silence was awkward or comfortable. Nevertheless, he respects her right to noiselessness.

X

He walks her to her car when they finish. He even opens the driver's side door for her, the way he would have done in high school. She doesn't sit right away, instead leaning against the vehicle, looking up at him in the setting sun.

"You gonna be alright?" he asks seriously.

She nods. "Because of you." She pauses, lifting her weight from the car. "Thank you," she says quietly, yet sincerely. He looks at the ground, a boyish look on his face. He's embarrassed. But when she comes closer to him, bringing her arms around him in a hug, he can help but wrap his own arms around her waist. She pulls away after a moment. "I'll see you on Thursday?"

He nods in response, and she finally gets into the car. Giving him one last hint of a smile, she allows him to shut the door.

X


End file.
